Lil' Star
by Bolinlover123
Summary: She was forever his 'Lil' Star' he always said, because stars shine the brightest in the dark, and always find thier way back home. But really, she thinks, it's because her daddy just enjoys how much she giggles when he says it, and never gets tired of whispering how thier eyes match, just like two sunbeams. Either way, she's happy.
1. Prologue

_Prologue__: The Sunbeam's Heartbeat_

* * *

_Korra knows the moment it happens._

_It's not something spiritual, that only an Avatar can comprehend._

_No, it is much, much more deep. Shared in and of her very being; in her very tissues and bones, beating with the little soul that she can feel fluttering inside her._

_It's a little sensation, a flutter of peace that pulses all throughout her body. The little wonder making itself known before even taking its first breath._

_She is carrying a soul, a tiny star that is growing in her womb that she and Mako have created. A little work of art; two hearts crashing together to morph a supernova and a typhoon of energy together in a plethora of love that shall take shape in the form of _hair_, and a _nose_, and a _smile,_ and a _laughter_ that will be more rhythmic that the sea of her people; of _their_ people._

_It is a girl._

_She cannot explain this knowing, but the miracle in her tummy shall be a baby girl, all with golden eyes like Mako and shining like a sunbeam. The picture in her mind is as clear as day, creating an image of what will be their future._

_Yes, yes, she knows this. She has never been so sure._

_Now it is Mako's turn to share this joy with her._

_She presses the flat of her palm to her tummy, and breathes in._

_But how will she tell him? How will Mako react?_

_She is twenty-one and blooming, on the verge of becoming a young woman and feeling the years of her life stretching out in front of her like a map, like a gold-illuminated arrow pointing forward and forward; endlessly knitted into Fate's Hands. An Avatar on the ripe of her journey, finally understanding now that she is never alone._

_But the little hands growing inside of her, will be her own Korra-fate, because in the end, the map will always point the little one back to her._

_She rubs the tender skin cocooning her little wonder, and breathes out._

_She opens her eyes._

_"Mako...?" She calls, and proceeds down the hall, towered their room._

* * *

Hey, guys, let me know what you think! This story will be from Mako/Korra P.O.V. until the baby is born, then told though the eyes of their child, and how they feel being the Avatar's daughter, and her own life's journey.

Hope you all enjoy! :)


	2. You Came in Like a Miracle

_One year ago:_

_'Kida'._

_What'cha say, Kor?_

_'Kida'. If we ever have a daughter, I want her name to be 'Kida'. Doesn't that sound lovely?_

_He smiled; It does. But we have a long time before we have to think about that. We have forever with each other. Let's not rush things._

_We can name our son after your father._

_I...I would love that. Thank you, sweetheart._

* * *

He's twenty-two and has already had his first heart attack, he thinks, as Korra's soft fingers bring his hand to rest his palm against the flat of her stomach; that simple touch and longing gaze in her eyes being the loudest silence to his ears.

Korra whispers one word, _Kida, _and the tears running down her face make his breath stop.

_W-what?_ the word leaves his mouth too dry, the tears in his own eyes threatening to drown him with fear because _no, no, no, this can't be happening, how can he be a father when he's never had one?_

He wants to be mad/yell/scream/cry/ all at once, because he is only twenty-two and a detective, and a life with no guidance surely will not suffice as him being a guide...?

But she is looking at him still, and he swears that with his palm pressed to her warm tummy that he actually _feels_ something there, something inside Korra that he knows it made from their love, and all he can stand to say is:

_Kida._

Korra is nodding and smiling a shaky smile with her beautiful lips, and swallowing back her tears and he _laughs._

He's laughing a wonderful, tear-stained laugh and Korra cups her palm in his, all four of their hands stroking her tender belly, and he thinks he has _no idea_ how he is going to do this, he knows he in _no way_ deserves this, but somehow this is going to happen, and he is going to be there for the both of them. To be the father that his own never got to be.

"She'll be just as amazing as you," he says, and longs for the day he can hold both their hands in his.


	3. Amazing

_'Hush now don't you_

_be afraid_

_I promise you I'll always stay_

_I'll never be that far away_

_I'm right here_

_with you_

_You're so amazing_

_you shine like the stars_

_You're so amazing_

_the beauty you are_

_you came blazing right into my heart_

_You're so amazing...'_

_Amazing: Janelle_

* * *

Kida's born in the relentlessness of winter, instead of the blooming spring as nine months would allow.

The cries are not heard from the too-little mouth with the too-little body, with too big of a heart to give up the fight. The cries are from the mother and father, as the baby girl-_thier_ baby girl- is pulled into the world with everything perfect about her, except that stunt of skin ending at the shoulder where a left arm should be and-clearly-is-not.

Korra is unconscious now, her eyes too weak to hold open as she begs Mako to save her, _her, save HER, not me._ But the unspoken truth in the room is that Korra is fine, just fine, but the baby girl is still not crying, and the five little fingers on the one little arm that is there, are not curling when they tickle her palm. And the doctors look at Mako sadly, not saying a word, and he knows what they are thinking, but no, _no!_ he won't give up, _he won't._

_Save her._

The doctors rush the baby _-his baby- _to another room that is filled with healers and surgeons and no, no, he can't let this happen! How could he have failed as a father when he never even got the chance to be one?

Maybe he is just not meant to have a family.

But then, _M-mako...where is she...where's my baby...?_ He snaps his head around at the voice. Korra is awake now, barley, and the words slur out of her with a breath, and her glassy eyes dart around empty the room in panic and all he can think about is:

_M-mako...Where are they...Where are Mommy and Daddy...?_

He swallows and grasps her hand, tight.

"She'll be okay, sweetheart."

Mako's never doubted his own words as much as he does then.

...

An endless amount of time passes as they lay on the hospital bed, Korra's cries ending hours ago. Be it from acceptance, or a new-found hope, he doesn't know. All he prays is that they come in soon, with a little bundle of joy and a '_Look who's here! It's Mommy and Daddy!' _Because he's twenty-two, and he's done burrying people, and by, Agni, what has he ever done to deserve such a fragile knowledge of life?i

The much-too-early birth was so unexpected. Korra was fine one moment, and the next, he was rushing into the room as her pained cries tore through the apartment, and he found her withering on the floor.

She whispered one word:

_Kida_

And then she blacked out.

He wishes someone were here to tell him it was going to be okay. He wishes he could move to go call Bolin and Asami because they have no idea any of this has even happened; but that would require getting up, and leaving her here alone. He would have to go all the way down the hall...and he just doesn't have the heart to move right now. And if he talks, and his brother's voice responds on the phone, all cheery and oblivious, he'll have to tell him _everything_. Everything, and how he kills everyone he loves, and if he talks, he'll break.

He wipes the salt from his eyes, and breathes in through his nose.

The clock on the wall strikes midnight.

He continues to wait.

...

He thinks someone must be looking out for him, because his prayers are answered two hours later as he opens his eyes, and shakes Korra awake to the sound of voices and the door creaking.

Korra spring up from the bed, and nearly attacks the nurse. And before he can tell her to lay back down, the nurse gives her a calming smile, and says, _Shhh...congratulations, you two..._

_Congratulations__._

He's so friggin' relived, he might puke.

_"Look who's here! It's Mommy and Daddy!"_ the nurse coos. And he swears something _moves_ inside the blanket.

Could it be...?

"Here, Mommy," the nurse gives the blanket to Korra and she starts crying all over again, but this time, he knows it's from joy.

He slowly walks over, heart a hammer in his chest, and looks down into the pink fabric.

He sees a tiny angel with a clipped wing.

Korra's finger rubs against the little cheek, and a small gurgle comes from her lips. Two eyes open, and shine a light so bright, two circles of sparking ember.

The doctor smiles sadly, "We almost lost her back there, but she's a fighter, all right. Came back strong as can be."

He's too choked up to respond.

"And her arm?" Korra's voice asks, thinly. (Or lack thereof) "I..."

He hears the words she's too afraid to say in her silence. It says,_ It's my fault. I did something wrong. I'm a horrible mother._ Because what mother wouldn't blame herself for her child's missing limb? Every parent wants their child to be perfect.

But what he wants to say to Korra, is that she already is perfect as anything he's ever dreamed.

The Nurse sighs, "We really aren't quite certain of the cause for it...The umbilical cord was tangled up around that spot and most likely stunted the growth of those parts..." She lays a hand on Korra's shoulder, "But you shouldn't blame yourself, Avatar Korra. It is nothing caused by you. And just look..." and he watches Korra's flickering eyes gaze down at Kida, "You have a healthy baby girl. There were no other complications, and she should be as amazing as you two- _will_ be," she corrects," Kida'll probably be a little small for her age, but that's to be expected in premature births. She's beautiful. You two are going to be great parents."

"_T-thank you..._" Korra's whispers, "For saving her..."

The nurse bows politely, and goes out the door.

The seconds passing, are now filled with coos, and a little giggle, that makes him choke up. "That's our- that's our _daughter,_ Korra... S-she's all ours..."

"She is." Korra wipes her face, "Mako," he snaps his eyes to Korra, "Do you want to hold her?"

Mako blinks...can he? Should he? Does he _deserve to?_

But before he do anything, Kida is being placed into his arms, and only thing he can say to her is, "Hi...I'm your Daddy, and I'm gonna take care of you forever." and Korra tries not to smile as she hears Mako whisper to Kida how their eyes match, just like two sunbeams.

And it doesn't matter to her what her baby does or doesn't have. Or how her skin is a like a tan moca, and her eyes are like stars.

She tells herself that months later, it doesn't bother her how Kida's first word is '_Dadda'_

Because right now, it's_ "I love you,"_ and she's kissing Mako, and he's kissing her, and they're both kissing Kida.

Either way, she happy. The happiest mother that can be.


	4. Eyes of a Child

_'I seldom think about my limitations, and they never make me sad. _

_Perhaps there is just a touch of yearning at times; but it is vague, like a breeze among flowers.'_  
:Helen Keller

Note: Short chapter-sorry, guys!

* * *

Kida is four when she starts to feel different.

She always knew she was 'special' because her Momma wasn't _just_ the bestest, most super-awesomest ( She had given Momma her two gold stickers that she had picked out of her little book) Momma in the world- although she _was _pretty amazing. When she first asked her Poppa what an 'A-va-tar' was and why her Momma was called that( _B-but if that's not Momma's first name, why doos peoples call her it, Poppa?) _her answer was given with a chuckle, followed by a smile.

_It means she gives people hope, Lil' Star, and that she's very powerful. People look up to her._

Kida tilted her head to the side, _but I look up to you, and not just 'cause I'm little. Are you an Avatar, too? Are you 'Mr. Avatar'?_

Poppa had patted her head, while shaking his back and forth with a smile, _You'll understand when you're older, sweetie._

_._

Kida is four, but she is old enough to understand discrimination. Fear of the misunderstood. Bullying.

The neighbors wanted to have a play date with a friend from preschool, a familiar face when new to this part of the vast City. And what-do-you-know, _My, she's the Avatar's daughter? Oh, my, my..._

A pat on the head from the mother, with a smile that Kida would in later years learn to associate as pity, a free chocolate-chip cookie before dinner, and Kida wouldn't have known the difference; she was just happy to have a friend to play with.

The girl's name was Kailani, and had eyes the color of an ice cube. Her skin, however, was light and pale like a noodle, and made Kida think of the snow that her Momma told her about during bedtime stories. Her hair was a chestnut brown, and woven together in two braids that met at the center down her back, and mingled in a wave of ribbons. She couldn't bend, but her family seemed not to mind that at all. Maybe her Momma wasn't an Avatar Momma…

Kida thought she was very beautiful, and the way her ribbons caught the light, made her want to touch them. But when she stuck her hand out, _smack! _She wasn't aloud. Kailani's face puckered and pouted until her pale-noodle cheeks turned red.

"_My_ ribbons!" she squealed.

"Sorry…" Kida whispered. Kailiani's Momma had told them to play nice.

It wasn't until lunch time, that the truth hit Kida hard.

Kailani's Momma had brought over a homemade dish of cheesy _bok choy_ for lunch, and after Poppa had each given them a plate, along with a glass of milk, and had said he was going into the next room over to work, (_Play nice girls, and remember to not be messy. I'll be right in this room, okay?_) it happened.

Kailani began licking the sticky cheese from her fingers, one by one, her mouth coated with a stash of orange and white. (_Very, very messy,_ Kida thought,_ Uh, oh._)

But then, after a moment, it kinda looked like fun! Kida looked at her, and began to lick her fingers, too, even though Momma said it was bad manners. Kida giggled, her cheeks getting all orange," Hehehe! Yummy!"

She was in the middle of sticking three gooey fingers in her mouth, and then Kailani exclaimed, "You can't do that!"

Kida pouted and stuck her fingers in her lap, "Why not?"

"'Cause you need ten fingers and you only gots five!" the girl stated, "Why you only got one arm?"

Kida blinked, and looked down at her right arm, "I dunno…'Cause I'm a Firebender, I guess? Except for Poppa! Poppa's the bestest, so he's got two-"

"-Nuh, uh! All Firebenders gots both arms! That's how they make their light!"

"They, do…?" Kida asked.

"Uh, huh!"

"B-but…." Kida sniffled, "I can make light, too! See?" She lit her palm ablaze, the orange-red flame flickering, "I have light inside me! That's what Momma said!"

"That's wrong!" Kailani screeched, "Wrong, wrong, _wrong!_"

Kida puckered, and tried to calm her down, "Shhh! Poppa says we gos'ta be quiet!"

Then, Kailani's arm went out like a scissor, and the milk splattered on the table and down in her lap like a raging river of creamy white.

She started screaming louder, _"My dress!"_

Kida closed her eyes and held her breath. She didn't like this girl, no, no, no.

"Girls! What's going on?"

_Uh, oh. Trouble._

There was Poppa, coming into the kitchen now. _Thump, thump, thump_, in his work boots, red scarf blowing in his pursuit.

"What happened," Poppa asked, looking at the messy table, and sobbing Kailani.

The girl didn't say anything, just kept blubbering and pointing a cheese-coated finger at Kida. "She's wrong!"

Kida blinked at looked at Poppa, confused. What had she done?

Poppa sighed and rubbed the space between his eyes with his fingers, "Alright, I think that's enough fun for one day. Kailani, how about I call your Mommy and she can come get you, and get you into something dry, okay?"

Kaiani just crossed her arms over her chest and huffed.

Poppa ran a hand through his hair, then bent down, and lifted her up into his arms, "Up you go, c'mon, sweetie. Oh, wow, you _really_ are all wet and sticky..."

"Bye-bye..." Kida said as Kailani's face stuck out over Poppa's shoulder; she made a face, and dipped down to hide under his red scarf.

After forever and a _year... _Kailani's Momma came to get her, and she went home, much to Kida's relief. Poppa came back to find Kida still sitting at the table, staring at her dish.

"Kida?" her sat down beside her, "Kida, sweetheart, what happened? Did you two get in a fight?"

Kida shook her head, "My light." She whispered.

"What, baby?" Poppa leaned closer.

"My light," Kida said, holding up her flickering palm, "She said it was wrong."

Looking back on that day now, years later, she doesn't remember much of it, but she does recall how she was forever his 'Lil' Star' he always said, because stars shine the brightest in the dark, and always find their way back home. But really, she thinks, it's because her daddy just enjoys how much she giggles when he says it, and never gets tired of whispering how their eyes match, just like two sunbeams. Either way, she's happy.

Poppa put a sticky finger into the cheese, and plopped it on his nose, with his eyes going all goofy! Kida giggled so much she forgot all about stupid, mean, Kailani.

"Poppa?" She asked, as she crawled into his warm lap.

"Yes, sweetie?"

"Can you tell me the story again? The one the about the light that shined so bright, she helped all the Spirits find a new home?"

"Ohhh...I guess so..." he said with a smile.

She was Momma and Poppa's Kida, and they were her Momma and Poppa. And to her, that was all that mattered.

"That story's my favorite, ever."

* * *

Just a short little chapter, next chapters with all be various parts and a different POV.

Please tell me, because I cannot decide, first person, of second person?


	5. We Are Young

Note: I have strange liking for naming things, and in my opinion, so do Kida and Korra! I never said I wasn't strange lol. ;) No judging, please.

* * *

I'm ten when Momma and Poppa and I (along with much thought) all agree on getting me a prosthetic arm. Aunt Asami (she wasn't really my aunt, but everyone is family) is the one to make it- or _create_ it- or...I- imagined- the perfect- design- up- for- you- Kida- one-night-over-cold-_bak choy- and bam! _Is how she explained it one morning, rushing into our house with her curls all mussed and oil stained on her apron, the biggest smile on her face. (When Aunt Asami gets an idea, _ohhhh boooyy.._.you better watch out!)

The surgery only takes a few hours; getting the shape to fit into my shoulder, the nerves all matching up. I won't lie when I tell you that it didn't hurt, (or _still_ doesn't, because even now sometimes it feels like my nerves are being pinched with acid-coated claws. But it's a small price to pay, and grants me the ability to do so much more now.) It took me a while getting used to it, and turned my balance into that of a gorillia-goat on a bed of slick ice (PS. not very pretty) My right side felt heavier than my left for a bit. I never liked to sleep with it, and I cannot take my baths or showers with it, because, although it is resistant to fire, getting water on it...well, heh, let's just say it's a good thing I am not a Waterbender, 'kay?

But it's _made from the best! Fire resistant alloy! So you can bend to you're heart's delight with it and it won't melt or burn!_ Auntie Asami declares with pride! And I'm so intrigued, watering amber eyes fixed on the shiny, gleaming surface, the bolts all joining as if real tendons. I rub my hand along the smooth surface, put my palm to match each of the identical metal fingers that have each been measured to match my flesh fingers. I try flexing my new hand, the wires in my brain commanding the new limb and it's...it's _amazing_ what the body can do.

Everyone is looking at me, now, "Kida, sweetie, are you okay?" Momma asks, and water drips down my chin, and _gahh,_ when did I start crying?

I wipe my face. "It's beautiful, Auntie." I say, "Thank you."

She smiles, and the room is dead silent. My heart is _pump, pump, pump._ I'm so excited/ scared/ happy/ that I am are going to burst, become a supernova and explode in a plethora of colors, scattered across the universe and-

"Kida?" I turn my head to Poppa's voice. "How do you feel, hon?"

"I..."

_Amazing. Electrified. Like I've been dead for so long and am now reborn and awake to an onslaught of senses and colors and have become a star that is shining so magnificent that it blocks out the sun-_

But I don't really say this, although I want to, because I know what he'd think. I am only very good with words in my head, which is why I write them in my journal. But when I say them out loud...it's like my tongue has been overtaken by a glue monster that seals it shut and rips out my voice. My journal is my own, and maybe one day... maybe I can write my words into a story for others to read. But I have to want my voice to be heard first. Maybe some day. But not today.

Today I am a star.

Today I am like Toph Beifong. Small, but sturdy. Limited, but infinite. Using my disadvantage to my fullest degree. I have light inside me, and no own shall douse it.

I am like Toph Beifong. No one can break me.

Uncle Bo chuckles and exclaims in his ever goofy and optimistic way, "Wow, so technically you're the youngest metelbender ever, kiddo!"

I watch as they all give him pointed looks. He pouts a little. "What? She is! ...Technically."

"You're right, Uncle Bo. Technically I am; the Earth Kingdom in me tingles, thank you." I wiggle each of my metal fingers, the clanking sound is like blood running through my veins.

I stretch my lips into grin. I dare to say it."I think this will come in handy."

Uncle Bo laughs. Aunt Asami rolls her eyes, and Momma and Poppa try not to snort. They know my notorious liking for bad puns. If the opportunity present itself, hey, you gotta say it.

I feel like Toph Befong. I'd like to think she'd be proud.

.

It takes a while to learn how to bend with 'Ol Bruiser. (Yes, that is what he - my left arm- is called.) My mother and I share little qualities, but one thing that the genetics got right is our shared obsession for names.(She dubbed our refrigerator 'The Stomach' and our radio 'Talky') If Poppa can be called 'City Boy' and 'Cool Guy' and 'Flame Brain' at thirty-two, without arresting himself, well, then, 'Ol Bruiser deserves some lovin'.

And _(shhhh) _I kinda, sorta, without permission because-no-no-_absolutely_ not- no-pets aloud, mighta named my Spirit that no one knows about 'Tukka'.

The Spirits are wonderful creatures. Well, at least the ones that I know, anyway. I live for Momma and Poppa's tales about how they saved the world together; my favorite being when Momma defeated Vaatu and gave way to a New Spiritual Age, letting the Spirit Portals open for Spirits and mankind to live amongst each other.

(_ I didn't cry while hearing that story. No. Uh, uh. Shhh, who told you that? Okay. I'm a crier. I admit it. That's about as Water Tribe as I'm gonna get.)_

Ahem. Sorry about that. Anyway, the point being is that, I cannot imagine a time when Spirits didn't fly above us, illuminating the sky in flashing greens and pinks and purples. Dancing in the streets, walking among us, side by side with their companions. But only _some_ people have a Spirit, and that Spirit has that human. It's like their guide, who they are destined to be with. Either they find the Spirit, or they find you...and most cases they find you. But it's only for those people who are really Spiritual and have a connection with them, who that specific Spirit chooses to be their life companion. It's called _'Bonding_', or a_ 'Bond_'. The humans they Bond with, are mostly benders ( don't get me started with the Airbenders. The Spirit to Airbender ratio, is, like, 10:9.9999999), but they can be for non-benders, as well.

The Bond is as strong as the Spirit and human's Souls intertwining. The Spirit will guard their companion for life, and when their human dies, they die. Which, unfortunately, also means that if the Spirit is injured...say a hurt leg...the person can also feel it in their leg, too. Physical or mental, whatever the Spirit feels, so does their human and vise verse. Also, there are even rarer cases of a Bonded person, gaining a kind of mind-spirit power from their Spirit. Being able to see the future. Read other's minds. Bending with just your mind, and no forms necessary, among others.

I know this is the reason why Momma and Poppa don't want me to get a pet. I know they love me, but sometimes they treat me like I'm fragile. And I think they think that If I get a pet, it will make me want a Spirit, and then one will Bond with me, and well, I don't need a hurt leg, or worse, now do I?

But it's too late. I'm already Chosen. Have been for two years now. And the Bond with Tukka has already been knitted in our souls. So strong in fact, that Tukka's left wing limps, and he always seems to fly a little better on his right side. But if Momma and Poppa knew this, I know they wouldn't understand. They'd want Tukka gone, say he was a risk to my health or whatever.

As I scratch Tukka's head with 'Ol Brusier's fingers, I sigh. The old people just don't understand. They remember life from Before, In the Old Age. They feel the Spirits are a threat to the world and the youth today. Bonded people are outcasted. Others thinking they (we) are freaks, and weirdos, especially if they have Powers to boot.

Which I think I possibly might, and really scars me sometimes. Is it still a coincidence if you have dreams, and three of them come true right before your eyes, playing out in front of you like as clear as day? If you know what's gonna happen...before it happens? And Tukka looks at me, all sad, sensing my dread, but just like me, unable to do anything about it?

I'm already the Avatar's daughter. So much expected out of me since birth, but unable to compete with when given the disadvantage. My classmates already think I am cursed or something because of my one arm. But if they find out I am Bonded, and somehow knew about the earthquake happening downtown last month, and how I tried to warn the police about it an hour before, with futile effects from an invalid ten-year-old girl, or how the our Principal's death wasn't as 'sudden and unexpected' as others thought it was...what would they think of me?

If my parents knew, what would_ they_ think of me? Would they want to protect me even more, or would they outcast me? What if they think I'm crazy? Why can't I have a vision about _that,_ and prepare myself to make it easier, instead of seeing horrible things before they happen?

_"Gahh!"_ I groan, and slap my journal shut, tying it closed, and Tukka neatly places it underneath the floorboard, safe and sound. Tukka caws softly, and says it's going to be okay.

I flop down on my bed, exasperated, wrist stiff from writing all night. I should have been in bed hours ago.

I didn't ask for this. I didn't ask to be the Avatar's daughter. Or have one arm, or be Bonded with a Power to boot. I didn't ask to be the class weirdo.

No.

But, somehow, it was all given to me. Somehow, this is my destiny.

An you know what they say, _'If you look for the Light, you'll often find it. But, it you look for the Dark, that is all you'll ever see.'_

I am a Little Star. I have light inside of me.

But lately, I feel all burnt out. Something bad is going to happen soon; I can feel it. Only I don't know what.

Maybe I wasn't meant to shine as bright as I always thought I would.

* * *

_Thank you for reading. More on other Bonded/Power people later and how they are seen in the New Age, as Kida tries to deal with her abilities and being the Avatar's daughter. She will try to be normal, and gain friends, and love, and independence along the way. :)_

_Open to any ideas and suggestions! Take care, everyone! _


	6. Warning Signs

_I am unwritten, can't read my mind, I'm undefined_  
_I'm just beginning, the pen's in my hand, ending unplanned_

_Staring at the blank page before you_  
_Open up the dirty window_  
_Let the sun illuminate the words that you could not find_

_Reaching for something in the distance_  
_So close you can almost taste it_  
_Release your inhibitions_  
_Feel the rain on your skin_  
_No one else can feel it for you_  
_Only you can let it in_  
_No one else, no one else_  
_Can speak the words on your lips_  
_Drench yourself in words unspoken_  
_Live your life with arms wide open_  
_Today is where your book begins_  
_The rest is still unwritten_

_"Natasha Bedingfield: Unwrittin"_

* * *

Tukka caws gently (but with just the right amount of annoyance to make me snap my eyes open) and I fall out of my bed, in a mess of sheets.

"Ughh..._Tukka..._" I groan, my butt now very sore, _"The morning is evil..." _Because honestly, whoever claimed Firebenders were morning people, and always 'rise with the sun', clearly drank cactus juice for the majority of their adolescent years, leaving no memory of the fact that sleep= happy teenagers.

(Unless your sleep grants you with horrible visions of the not-so-bright-future, involving earth-shaking quakes in the middle of town that swallow people whole, or vengeful Spirits killing your principal in cold blood, for still unknown-and unwanted to be known- reasons. But if my parents can still be unaware of this, then I can try to be normal. Well, normal for _me,_ anyway.)

"Kida!" Poppa's voice rings out from down the hall (Because _of cours_e, he is already up. Justice never sleeps, you know.) "Breakfast!"

"Coming!"

Tukka chuckles, and I through my pillow at him. I start to put on my slippers, and- wait! 'Ol Bruiser!

"'Ol Bruiser, where are you?" I call. As if he will answer. It's early, okay? I'm a night owl. I can stay up and watch the stars and Spirits dance in the sky. Can do midnight runs, and write in my journal until daybreak, but besides that, I'm all Fire Nation, baby! 'Sides, red goes better with my eyes...

Anyway.

Ahah! 'Ol Bruiser is hiding under my book, silly boy. My big, green-covered book, about how the Earth Kingdom used to have this kinda old form of Probending, called "The Earth Rumble" where Toph Beifong rocked (Hehe, I said '_rocked'. _Agni, Uncle Bo is getting to me...) and she was nicknamed the "_The Blind Bandit_". That's how she met Avatar Aang and her friends, as the stories go. And yeah, I'm kinda obsessed with her. Toph Beifong's my idol, and one day, I wanna go to the town where she grew up. GAHHH, COULD YOU IMAGINE?!

By now, my hair is nearly brushed, the black silky- locks nearly touching my shoulders in a little bob. I like to keep it short. That way, it takes less time to dry, and won't get as much water on 'Ol Bruiser, (or catch on fire, because I was seven and _freaked out _and never grew my hair past my shoulders again) and, let me tell you, brushing your hair with one hand, is not what any girl would call 'low maintenance'.

I jog into the kitchen, and peck Poppa on the cheek. "Hey, officer."

"Good morning, hon," he greets, placing the badge on his uniform, "How'd you sleep?"

"Dreamily." I say, and grab a piece of toast, and make my way to the door.

"Uh, uh. _Sit._" he uses his 'official voice' that means no nonsense, "Eat your breakfast. There's kids starving out there. You're lucky you get a free breakfast."

"Yes, Poppa," I say, and pick up a banana. Guilt-trip me, why don't 'cha?

Wherever Poppa makes a reference to how he and Uncle Bo had it as a kid, it just makes me feel really sad. And it's not that I am not grateful, it's just...you don't know what you've got until it's gone, you know? When I was little, I didn't realize why Poppa acted so paranoid when I turned six, not wanting to leave the house, and have a party here with just us, or even more so when I turned eight. The day after my eighth birthday, I found him crying alone in his bed room, clutching his scarf like he never wanted to let it go. He had been facing away from me, so he didn't know I was there, but I heard him muttering something about how he was gonna take care of me, even better than he took care of Uncle Bo. How he was gonna be the father that his Poppa never got to be, and hoped that his Momma and Poppa were proud of them.

That was the only time I've ever seen Poppa cry. It made me cry. I didn't like it one bit. The next day he told me everything about his past- well, I'm sure not _everything. _In a sugar-coated way that an eight-year-old can understand without freaking them out.

But I always remembered that night, and it motivates me to say my prayers when I go to bed every night. Because I could be that girl in the alley with no home or family. My parents could have gotten rid of me when I was born for my deformities.

Say your blessings. Count your lucky stars. Kiss your parents good night. Spirits, I don't wanna try to imagine a little Poppa and Uncle Bo...

Can I please not cry before first class? My inner ( and I mean inner) Water Tribe instincts only take affect via my eyes. AKA: '_Kida the crybaby'_ dubbed by none other than Miss-Perfect-Look-At-How-Shiny-My-Hair-Is Kailani.

_Well, you know what, Kailani? I got something shiny, too! And his name is 'Ol Bruiser! So you better_ _watch out_-

"Kida?"

(I would never really say this to her- or threaten anyone, really. I am a person of peace- or try to be. I would just think this, look away shyly and try to ignore her and her stupid friends, and make a mental note to write her death in a story in my journal, using a different name. Which is totally not odd at all.)

"_Kida. _Helloooo..." my vision comes back to Poppa's blurry hand waving in my face, "You didn't hear anything I just said, did you?" Poppa sighs and gives a little smile, "Sometimes I wonder about you...I swear, I don't know who you take after."

_I do know who I take after either,_ I think broodingly, because, honestly? Sometimes I feel like my parents don't know me. Well, maybe this is because I choose to rather write down my feelings, than express them verbally. But, it's like...given the choice between a family and friends of Spirits, or people...Spirits would be my way to go. And at least Spirits are truthful. You learn a lot about a person by touching their hand and unconsciously getting a blast of flashes and pieces of their life, just by that contact. Stuff no one wants you to know, but you know any way, because normal people can shake hands like it's nothing-but you? You, with the one hand that you do have, gets to know that this kid in your math class, cheated on the last test ( number seven was 'A') and that your teacher for ' Four Nations History' once accidentally caused a house fire, or even that Kailani's daddy, isn't her real daddy, _but- she- thinks- he- is_.

So yeah, Spirits are safer.

"Sorry, Poppa," I yawn," the mornings are just evil," I say, to prove him wrong. _Hah! Burn! _What he doesn't know, won't hurt him.

He grins, "Guess I deserved that one." he chuckles and pores another cop of coffee.

"Just laying down the law, officer._ Muahh_!" I kiss his cheek, "See you after work."

He bids me goodbye, telling me to be safe, and I mumble and half-hearted, _yeah, yeah, _before whistling for Tukka that the coast is clear.

Maybe I will actually not be the freak at school today for once.

(Hears hoping.)

.

His name is Sunna.

He comes in like a flicker, and dies off like a puff of smoke. At least, to the rest of the class, it seems.

To me, he shines. He is a star in the night sky.

He stands at the front of the class, and looks like he is very uncomfortable and shy. Or has to pee. But I decide 'uncomfortable', especially because us kids have known each other for years, so to most, he is new prey in this unchanging habitat, and on particularly hot days such as this, or teacher accumulates quite an, um, ..._unpleasant_ sent via the pits of her arms. Either way, his fingers and are twitching at his sides, and he seems to be very good at looking at our direction, but averting his lovely, grass-green eyes from any (predators) _ahem_, classmates.

Of course, gossip starts before his name is even said, or his (sexy) voice comes from his lips.

Kailani's group sits in the back of the room, and she and her little group of (minions) friends, think he is so, _so cute!, Oh, my, Spirits, what's his name? Oh-! He looked at me!_

_His name is 'Sunna'!_, I want to yell at her,_ it was his great grandfather's name, who fought in the war!_

But then, how do I go about saying that I know this, only because 'Ol Bruiser just had- to- be- a- nice and pick up his book that he dropped, granting me that little tidbit of info- along with feeling like I was being choked by a desert full of sand? I can't. So I hide behind my notebook, drown out the Minion's chants, and center in on the 'Sandman'.

"Class," or teacher announces, and the Minions silence under the magic words, "I'd like you all to meet our new friend, and classmate, 'Sunna'!"

Everyone sings, _"Hiiiiii,Sunnnnaaaaaaaaa!"_

Eye lashes are batted, cheeks blush from across the room, jealousy is strung, mucho-ness is testest from other guys, and they see him as a threat to what is theirs. Mating season has begun.

_Blahhhhh._

And it's not like Sunna even looks like a kind of prince or anything (although he_ is_ good looking); he has squinty eyes. My guess is because those emerald orbs are so used to blinking out the grains of sand that he bent back home, and the light in this room is so fake and foreign to him with it's yellow-glow, unlike the life-giving sun that bakes his skin to a light brown and heats the sand beneath his feet.

He misses home, I can tell.

"So, Sunna. Why don't you tell us about yourself?" Mrs. Una says.

"Um, hey, I'm ah...Sunna."

Teacher nods. Girls giggle.

"Yes, and where are you from, Sunna? Do you have siblings, can you bend...?"

He nods, "I have a younger sister. My family and I just moved here from the desert. We're sandbenders."

_Ooohhh_ and _ahhhhhh_ ring out.

"Ohh. _Exotic_," Ty Ling purrs. I roll my eyes.

"Very nice," Teacher smiles, "We are very happy have you in our city, and in our classroom."

He is lanky, unlike most earthbenders- but then again, he's from the desert, and sand is not like regular earth, so Uncle Bo says. Sunna is all limbs, with sand-eroded skin, and a gold pin that is budded to his sash around his waist. It shimmers every time he moves. I want to touch it, want to feel it's smooth surface on my skin and see what that symbol on it is- before remembering that I can't touch. It's too dangerous. I can't touch. Keep my hands close, inside my pockets. Rush in, rush out. Don't let anyone brush up against you, don't even give them time to.

It's too dangerous. People are dangerous.

But Sunna...he seems...different. I can't explain it, but I can _feel_ something from him. Most Bonded people, can sense other Bonded and Powered people, as well.

But, he can't be...can he? No, he looks far too good looking, and sane, and- _normal. _I must be wrong. He can't-

Someone shrieks right before I smell the familiar scent of smoke. _Kida!_ My name is being yelled- why? I snap out of it, just in time to see and_ feel_ a blaze of fire right in front of me, the papers on my desk in a blaze of yellow and orange.

I scream and fall off my chair in panic. That's never happened before! I've only lost control of my bending when I was little! Ta Mung is the only other Firebender; he in the way back of the room, and he would never do that.

"_Kida!_" Kailani yells, "Put it out! What's the matter with you!"

"I-I-I-" I stutter, my throat closing, "I didn't- t-that wasn't me-"

"-Well put it out, stupid! Before you_ kill us!"_

Everyone's looking at me now, all eyes in a glare or a wide-eyed fear. Sunna looks afraid. Afraid of _me._

Another row of papers go ablaze. Someone else screams.

I spring up and wave my arms out to try to defuse the flame. _Nothing happens_. I put my palm flat against the fire, and close my fingers like Momma and Poppa taught me, hoping to kill the heat and make the flames stop-

"Gahh! I can't! I d-don't know what's-"

With a snap of my whole body, my eyesight goes dark, and a scene flashes before my vision.

_Flash;_

_A green-eyed boy making sand dance around him like a wave; I am this boy, I feel him, everything in and of his being._

_The sand dances, dances, but the wind is too strong now, a storm coming from the east. I can't see. Can't breathe. Sand is choking me, coating my skin, burning it off. The Sun is blocked by a blanket of sand that spins around in a typhoon. People try to hold hands tight, and cover their mouths, but their element is going against them._

_Flash;_

_Someone screams, and I am flying away in the typhoon. I am flying, spinning so fast away._

_I fly and float for days, and wake under a pile of dust. I claw my way out, and open my eyes to a relentless sun and an empty desert._

_But- who am I?_

_I can't remember anything._

_What is my name?_

"_KIDA!"_

"AHHHH!" Finally, I realize that the one screaming, is me; my throat horse and my head fuzzy as I grip my desk to steady myself.

I come out of it, by a river of water being drenched in front me, ( barely missing 'Ol Bruiser) the flames all gone now. Mila and Hatzu, the Waterbenders bend the water back in their pouches. Mila gives me a weirded out look that clearly says _'freak'._

"What the heck was that? Hatzu asks, " Are you alright, Kida?" She asks, putting a hand to my shoulder. I flinch. Hatzu is nice- but she is nice to everyone. She is the only I can actually say is the closest thing I have to a friend.

"I-I..." I swallow.

_What the heck happened?_

"Kida, sweetheart, would you like to go to the nurse?" Teacher asks, concern on her face.

I shake my head. I don't know if this means 'yes' or 'no.'

I just feel numb. I want Momma.

"Yeah, Spirits, Kida," Kailani growls, "Do you have to make such a scene in front of Sunna? I know you're desperate, but _come on._ Freak out, much?" she smirks, making an _Oh. My. Agni. _Queen Bee Face. Her Minions giggle behind their desks. "It's not the arm you don't have, it's the brains!"

"That's _enough_, Kailani!" Teacher scolds, "No more!"

Kailani huffs in her seat.

I freeze. _Sunna._

I lift my gaze up slowly, wearily, my body shaking, to see Sunna standing in the same place he was before. His green eyes locked on mine, his face full of fear and pity.

_Oh, no. No, no, no, no, he saw everything._

I look at him, for a second, then break the gaze, burring into my seat. I feel like I am going to die. I start sweating. My eyes start to sting.

_No._

"Alright class, settle down, "Teacher heaves a sigh, and looks around wearily at her students and sopping wet, and scorched class room. "Sunna," Teacher says, and I close my eyes and hide my face, "Why don't you take a seat?"

I don't even have to look. I can listen to the footsteps that go all the way around the room, to the back of the class to get to as far away from me as possible.

I fling up from my seat, and sprint out the door and down the hall as fast as I can. Tears streaming down my face, I need to get out need to get out need to get out _whattheheckiswrongwithme?_

I crash open the doors of the school and am greeted with the sunny sky. I need Tukka, someone who will understand.

I run as fast as I can to the only place I know where Spirits will always greet me; The Spirit Woods.


	7. Sixth Sense

_A special thanks to my good friend '_Boasami_' for her help! May she always be my partner in fanfiction!_

_._

_PS. I am new to first person, so I realize that this is mostly lots of talk inside Kida's head, and not a lot of action. I promise that the next chapters following this will be very action-y! Thanks, guys! :) More on Kida's bending ( she is going to have an accident with her bending) and Sunna coming up soon!  
_

* * *

_I am_

_Only human_

* * *

Sunna had always known that he was special.

After all, he was a sandbender! Momma had always told him how proud she was of him for being the first male bender in his family for generations. Poppa's family was made up of nonbenders, and Momma's family were almost all sandbenders—with the exceptions of a few of his aunts and cousins who'd moved to the big city, and had taken boring jobs. They only showed up for family reunions now and then. Sunna would always remember the day that he had bent a few particles of sand at age four, and how happy Momma had been.

His family was a respectable one—his Poppa had always gone in to work on time, his Momma donated to charities, and his sister was liked by all. So was he. For many years, he'd thought that his life would always be like that—a happy one, where every day was nice.

But reality is not always nice, and sometimes sand, can erode away to what lays underneath.

.

He's eleven years old when his entire life is thrown off its axis.

Jogging away from his small house with a few friends at his side, Sunna waves goodbye to his mother, who cradles his little sister, Yuni, in her arms.

"I'll be back soon, Momma!" he calls, "I promise!"

"Have fun, honey!" his mother calls after him, as he raced off to the sand dunes to go sandboarding with his friends. Once the three boys had gotten to the top of the highest dune, they _whooped!_ as Liao's Poppa brought them their sleek brown sled, nicknamed 'The Lightning'.

"Thanks, Dad!" shouts Liao, before giving him a quick hug and getting it set up at the top of the hill.

"Be good, boys, all right?" says Liao's dad sternly with a small smile.

"We will!" the boys say in unison as Liao's father departed down the dunes.

"This is going to be so awesome!" whoops Zhang, who was a portly, and easily excited boy that had been Sunna's best friend since the two of them were toddlers.

The three boys pile onto the sled and, on the count of three, pushed off the hill. Flying down the sand so fast that sand flew into all three pairs of eyes and into their mouths, Sunna grins at the sincerity of the feeling: it was genuine and lovely.

It had been one of the happiest moments of his life.

As the sled slides to a halt, a group of thugs who Sunna vaguely knew from school, approach the group of friends.

"This dune's on our turf, dummies," says the biggest one. "As payment, you boys will just have to give us three yuans each."

"But we don't have any yuans," says Zhang quietly.

"Hmm…" the biggest thug considers mockingly. "Then I guess you'll just have to hand over that fine sled. Scum like you can't have that."

"I saved up my allowance for that sled!" Liao says boldly. "You can't have it!"

Another thug walks up to him-who probably outweighs Liao by fifty pounds- and looms over all three of them by six or seven inches. "I don't think so." He tries to tug the sled from their fingers, but Liao, Sunna and Zhang hold on firmly.

"Leave us alone," Sunna orders in a voice that he hoped wasn't shaking.

The thugs laugh. "Look at the punk!" One of them pushes Sunna to the ground and the other two manage to get the sled out of Liao and Zhang's hands.

"Give it back!" shouts Zhang, and one of the boys punches him in the eye. Zhang goes down with a thud.

Sunna sees red.

He shouts something, and the ground all around him shakes. Sand sprays everywhere, and the boys look afraid, including Liao. Somehow, Sunna finds himself standing up and approaching the thugs and his friends. He makes the sand dance around him like a wave, like a tsunami. The sand dances around all of them. Somewhere inside Sunna, he registers that the voice coming from his lips, doesn't sound like him, and that his head is buzzing with a lack of control. He tries to _stop/stop/stop_, but the wind's too strong now, like a storm coming from the east.

Sunna can't see or breathe. Sand chokes him, coating his skin, and making him feel like a hot iron is pressing against his whole body. The sun is blocked by a blanket of sand that spins around in a typhoon, _him_ being the center of it all. The boys try to hold their hands tight over their mouths, the sand of their home turf moving against them.

Some voice vaguely familiar to Sunna screams his name, and he tries to respond, only to find himself flying away in the typhoon. He flies and floats for what seems like days, and wakes under a pile of dust in an unfamiliar landscape.

He claws his way out, and opens his eyes to a relentless sun and an empty desert. Sunna chokes and vomits sand onto the desert floor uncontrollably.

_"There he is!"_shouts someone unfamiliar to him, and a whole crowd of people run towards him.

A woman kneels next to him. "Oh, my baby, oh, honey," she sobs.

"We need to get him to a healer!" yells someone else, and the crowd picks him up and carries him. A young boy, probably close to his age, follows from behind.

"Sunna, are you okay?" he asks in concern, his brown hair flopping into his eyes.

Sunna scrunches his eyebrows together. "W-who..._who's Sunna?_" he rasps.

.

It takes almost seven weeks for Sunna to completely regain his memory.

His mother had cried something awful, and his father had almost beaten the doctors to an inch of their lives when they'd given his family the diagnosis.

There had been two casualties in the sandstorm—the sandstorm that_ he_ had created. One of them had been the biggest thug who'd started the conflict in the first place.

The other had been Zhang.

Sunna feels a feeling of detachment from everyone around him: including his own family. They are extremely busy with Yuni, who had gotten a horrible rash from the sandstorm, and the red, inchey bumps keep the toddler up at night.

But there are things left unsaid, a certain feeling like he is walking on eggshells around his family- or more so, they around him.

His mother and father soon master the technique of having full conversations with each other, based solely with their eyes, and the twitch of their lips when ever he enters a room. He doesn't talk much to them, and his parents don't seem to have anything to say either; once lively, loving dinners, are soon filled with stiff silence, and the patter of chopsticks. Some days he forgets to eat entirely, and no one seems to remind him.

Things never were the same after that day.

He goes to Zhang's funeral, as well as the thug's. But doesn't cry or feel sad. He's the dead one, he thinks. The bodies in the boxes are watching him, their souls swimming in the air. He simply feels alone, like everything that he had been—everything that Sunna had been—had vanished with that sandstorm.

(_Dead man walking,_ they whisper, _Only the Sandman sleeps_.)

.  
He's thirteen when he realizes his Power.

He realizes it when he is rocking a very finicky Yuni on his lap, while his parents are out at a party.

-(It's probably another opportunity for all the judgmental people to say to his parents, _Your son is very…interesting_…_has there been something wrong with him after the accident?' _or something along those lines- over cups of cactus juice and plates of food. And in turn, his poor parents will force another set of weary smiles, along with tired eyes, sip their drinks and respond with something similar to, _Oh, no. Not our Sunna_, a little weary chuckle and nonchalant wave of the hand, _he is a very sweet boy, and has recovered quite nicely._ Because if you do not acknowledge the elephant- goat in the room, it is not there. Their mouths will sing denial, but their eyes will show fear. Because they know something is not-quite-right, but their happy little bubble is all they've ever known.)-

Yuni hasn't slept for more than four hours, in almost three days. It's kept all of them up at night, and he hears his Momma and Poppa soothing Yuni at all hours of the night, and then knocking back seven cups of coffee or so in the morning. Now, growling slightly at his sister, he says, "Sleep! Come on, Yuni! Sleep already!"

Her eyes close as suddenly as if someone had flicked a switch. He is shocked, and decides to try it on their pet, a miny bagermole named Mulla.

"Sleep, Mulla!" he orders, and she sleeps. He prays they all have good dreams that night, and the next morning, when they both awake at exactly the same time, Yuni tells him in her limited speech how "_goot_" her dream was.

He tries out his Power on a bully at school during 'Bending History' class, and laughs at the drool staining the desk that day. (The fact that the kid gets four detentions for being lazy is also a great perk). Sunna prays for him to get a nightmare, and he does.

What Sunna doesn't know, is that the boy has to see a therapist for the next month because of how scary his dream was. (_Monsters! Monsters and Spirits with yellow eyes and teeth! _But sometimes, the scariest monsters, are the ones we create ourselves.)

(And you know what they say about those who fight monsters...)

.

He likes his Power, but only uses it for fun, and whenever Yuni has a bad dream and keeps him up at night.

But two days after Sunna's fourteenth birthday, his Power spirals out of control.

Liao-who somehow is still is his friend after that horrible day three years ago at the sand dunes-and Sunna walk home to Liao's house one day after school to study. Liao is stressed about the high level of homework that the teachers give him, and doesn't sleep well at night.

"I'm _exhausted_," he tells Sunna through bloodshot eyes and a droopy head,"How do they expect us to finish all this work? I just can't sleep, Sunna…"

Sunna looks at his poor friend, with the dark smudges blooming under his eyes, and the messy hair that is sure to turn gray by next year if his stress keeps up at this rate.

"Let me help," Sunna suggests thoughtfully, because he cares about Liao, and wants him to be alright. Liao lays down in bed, and Sunna uses closes his eyes and concentrates. He doesn't even need to speak anymore for his Power to work. He simply places his palm on the boy's forehead, and wills Liao's mind to calm, and slow. In less that two minutes, the boy is snoring, and his blanket is tucked around him.

Liao doesn't wake up the next morning.

Or even the next evening.

Liao doesn't wake up again. _Ever._

_._

He sleeps to the sounds of shadows, and nightmares dancing in the dark. He awakens as the undead, only to shuffle along like sand carried away in the wind.

_Sunna..._ whispers of ghosts haunt him, and he is afraid to close his eyes, if only to be met by the same fate.

For a long time, Sunna has hard time trying to determine life from the dreams. If he is awake, or asleep. And, if he is awake, which is the real nightmare?

_Sleep, Sandman,_ they whisper, there voices like knives, _nighty night, sleep tight._

_._

Horror is brought upon the whole tribe of Sunna's family. Whispers and points follow him in the streets and the rest of his family too: when his father goes to work, when Momma stops by the store for food, even when Yuni skips off to her friends' houses. _Cursed, cursed, that boy is evil! He is an evil Spirit!_

When Sunna is attacked by a trio of men on his way to school one morning, nearly beaten to a pulp, the men claiming the need to _'beat the evil out of him',_ action is finally taken.

Sunna doesn't protest when his family moves from the town that he'd called home all his life. There was nothing left for him anyway.

His Poppa and Momma and Yuni are sad: he feels bad when Poppa takes a boring desk job instead of working on houses like he happily had back home, when Momma has to take a job as a maid at some rich family's estate, when Yuni has to leave all her friends behind and start all over in Republic City.

Sunna walks into Mrs. Una's classroom his first day, and is immediately met by the glare of an artificial light, and he automatically squints from the…falseness of it. It's horrible. Where is the sun? Where are the stars and sand? It is only then he feels his first pang of missing home.

The girls all blush and wink at him, the males glare and cross their arms across their chests. All except for one black-haired, amber eyed girl, who has a metal arm where her left should be. She rolls her eyes, hiding behind a book, and he almost smiles.

The teacher—Mrs. Una—makes him answer a bunch of annoying questions, and then the metel-armed eye-roller sets the first two rows' homework papers on fire. He steps back in shock as she seemingly goes into a destructive trance. Almost…almost like he had that fateful day three years ago. She snaps out of it with a terrified scream, and the girls behind her all sinker and make crude remarks. He takes a seat at the back of the classroom, where he is away from all the prying eyes but can keep an eye on the eye-roller.

Her name is 'Kida'.

He feels…_connected_ to her, somehow. But Kida wasn't like him. No one was. No one could be.

.

.

.

_Could she?_

* * *

_{Who is that _**g i r l**_ I see, staring _STRAIGHT_ back at m / e? When will my reflec / tion show, who I am _**inside**_?}_

.

.

* * *

The Spirit Woods are a place where-well, honestly, hence the name, a wood full of Spirits thrive. But _woods?, _you may ask, _in a city such as vast and bustling as our fine Republic? Crazy Talk!_

Oh, ye, of little faith.

Remember, as the stories ago, after Momma left the Spirit Portals open, the Spirits were free to roam our glorious world and mingle in with the human race as Companions- or, in some cases, not to much...(I'm pretty sure my family left out some of the not-so-pretty details of the 'Friend or Foe' dilemmas they were faced with) But, so, the Spirits needed to have some places to stay to call their home, and so they created all these vines that wrapped around places that once used to be buildings and such, and sequentially, it turned into the Wilds like in Avatar Wan's time. As I've heard, the Spirit Woods used to be part of a particularly uninhabited section of the city, full of old buildings and seedy streets. Well, I guess the Spirits must have liked the lack of human activity and decided to make themselves at home, because it is now a lush batch of evergreens and tall grasses amongst of plethora of wild life. They know how to renovate, I can tell you that.

I feel at home- a sense that no other place on the earth can give me- as I climb up a tall tree whose wide truck is tangled in a web of vines, ( her name is Fern) Some of the flying Spirits squawk and come sit by me. I feed them some leechi nuts that I picked up by the vender on my way here, and when asked _why in the world is a young lady like you not in school?, _I simply stated that I was homeschooled. (As per usual) the wrinkled old man took one good look at 'Ol Bruiser, made the Pity Face, and by the grace of his beating heart, declared that the snack was half off. Being me does have a few perks, far and in-between.

I'm sitting on the branches, my head peeking out of the leaves, across the wide valley of the Woods, and think, maybe this really is where I belong. Maybe I am half Spirit, or something. I've thought long and hard over the years of telling my parents about Tukka, and my abilities, but, the fear always won. If only I had one person- just one- to talk to.

But I can't. Maybe I just wasn't meant to be with people. In my most wildest dreams, I break away from all the people in the city. I am free, on my own with no limitations or rules, or people holding me back. I am one with the Spirits; them and I. My future stretches out- _unknown, inevitable._ In my dreams I am free from my curse of knowing other's pasts, fears, and futures. I am not bound by what others feel, and am aloud to have my own emotions, without getting drunk with the enigmas of other people's souls eating away at me, influencing me.

Here, in the Spirits Woods, I am Kida.

Not Kida-the-Avatar's- daughter. Or, Kida-the-one-armed-freak-show. Or even, Kida-the-creepy-powers-girl.

No. I am Kida, and if only I knew who 'Kida' was, then maybe I could really be her.

I fall asleep in the trees, and for some reason, have the best sleep that I can remember. I am floating, floating, my head full of bubbles, numb to the emotions of others.

I am shining, shining, growing bigger,

then I burst

into a million buds of light that pop and crack across the sky.

_Kida...Kiiiddaaa.._ a voice says my name. A voice I have never heard call my name before, yet sounds familiar somehow.

I am in a pool of emerald-colored sand that whisks my worries away like pixie dust, warm hands running through my hair.

_Kidddaa..._

I wake to the yellow-ribbon painted sky that stretches across the trees. The Spirits are huddled around me in a protective shield, and there is a thin dusting of sand on my outstretched palm.

I rub the grainy particles on the pads of my fingers, before lighting them with my fire and watching as it melts. They pop and burn and melt, and slowly, with concentration, turn into a shiny, reflective surface. Almost-kinda glass. I put my Wishing Mirror beneath the leaves, and make my way home, my head heavy with thoughts.

...

Momma is crying when I get home.

At first, I think it is because she was worried that I got home late, or heard about what happened at school, and I was all but ready to sputter out excuses and apologizes. But she and Poppa where sitting on the couch, facing away from me, crying and muttering things. Through the tears I hear Poppa mutter, "It's going to be okay, Korra. We can try again, sweetie, it's not your fault."

Momma shudders out another breath, and buries her face in Poppa's shoulder.

I freeze, all the fire in my blood going cold.

_We can try again. Not your fault._

When I was little, I always wanted a little sibling, because I always felt lonely with my lack of friends. Momma being the Avatar, and Poppa being a busy detective never really made a dinner of three, -or even two- very common.

I remember asking a few years ago if Momma and Poppa could 'make' me a little sibling, and, well...let's put it this way: in Poppa's own shy words, to my ever curious nine-year-old self, what he was trying to say, that I only understand now, was that Momma's fruits of her labor, were not exactly in her _favor_.

If you know what I mean.

A part of me always wondered if they would have wanted another kid, if I had two real arms, and actually liked people like a normal person. I usually push these thoughts out of my head, because I know they are wrong, and won't get me anywhere. But sometimes in town, I see families with four, or five children, and their parents beam with pride, so happy, and _Oh, yes, Sougi, my eldest, is going off to learn in Ba Sing Sa._ Or,_ my third eldest, she takes after her mother so much. She is going to be just like her mother one day, very bright she is._

I know I am a disappointment to my parents. People make it clear enough with the stares and faces and comments.

And now Momma is still crying, and clutching her tummy desperately, murmuring,_ I can't believe I lost him, Mako. I was going to tell Kida tonight. She would have been so happy. I'm a horrible mother..._

I feel the tears streaming down my face, and don't care if I get shocked by 'Ol Bruiser.

I was almost a big sister.

I am shaking, shaking so hard. I want to run over to my parents. I want to tell them it isn't their fault, that they are not a bad Momma and Poppa, but the best. That it was probably my fault, because everything always is.

That I would trade that unborn baby's life for mine in a heartbeat. That I-

"Kida?" Momma's voice.

I snap my head up. My parent's faces: blotchy, red, tear-stained.

"Kida, sweetie," she says, "There is something we need to tell you."

I am shaking, shaking so hard. My good arm is grabbing the door frame for dear life.

"It's my fault," I whisper.

Then, before they can respond, I am sprinting up the stares, into my room. The door slams so hard that the window shakes. I hear them calling from downstairs, but I just block it all out.

A scream rips from my throat before I know it. I tear my stupid metal arm from my shoulder, yanking hard enough to cut open the skin that connects it.

I don't care.

I fling the stupid piece of junk arm across the room, and the table knocks over, scattering my books.

I don't care.

Kailani would laugh. Kida-the-freak doesn't need books, because it's a wonder she can even read. What with her half a brain, and enormous monster arm, and ugly hair, and fatty legs, it's a wonder she can even bend!

I scream again, this time, nearly breathing fire.

I _hate_ school, and I _hate_ that bitch Kailani, and I _hate_ people, and I am never going back there again!

It should have been me, instead. That baby should be me. I bet my almost-sibling would be brave like my parents, and not stutter when addressed, and flinch at a hand shake. I bet they would be pretty, with shiny hair, and bright eyes. They would be normal, too. No Powers, or Bonding. A Waterbender.

They'd be a Waterbender, because water gives life, and can heal. They'd never burn themselves by accident ( or on purpose, in particularly rare, dark moods) They would never have to worry about electrocuting themselves when crying, or drinking water, or washing their hands- because they would have_ two_ arms. They would be tall, and not five feet. If a girl, she'd actually have boobs as a teenager, (because, um... when do mine come in?) and sexy hips, instead of being a twig, and have her period, because _mine-should-have-come-by-now. ( Um...?)_

But most of all, they'd be normal. And everyone would love them.

I stuff my face in my pillow, and cry until I have no more tears left ( dry as a desert) and all the Water Tribe that I never was, is out of me.

Tukka whimpers beside me, curling up on my side. I fall sleep to the sounds of a baby crying that shall never really cry, and dream of turning into a Spirit so I can finally belong.

...

It is the weekend (Spirits bless Ta and La) which means I am free to sleep in. (Although, a small, and insane part of me wishes it were a school day, because it wants to see Sunna. I deem myself insane, because a fourteen-year-old girl with a lack of boobs and hips, who has yet to have her first period, can not be hormonal, and no, _uh, uh_, I cannot like like Sunna. I mean, I only met him, and saw him for, like, ten seconds, all the while managed to have a full-blown freak out.

So, I do not like Sunna.

Nope.

_Awe, monkeyfeathers. I like him, okay?!_

By ten A.M. I deem my comatose hours sufficient, and, after cleaning off my wet pillow, feeding Tukka, and tending to my metal arm (yeah, I call 'Ol Brusier 'metal arm' when I'm upset. I don't think he likes it much) decide which method is safer. Either A: Stay in this room until I am an old hag. B) Escape to the Spirit Woods and risk my parents having the whole city searching for me, or C) Face the Wrath that is my poor Parents in the (Dungeon) Kitchen.

I feel too down at the moment to escape, so I contemplate going back in my covers and playing sick. Maybe write in my journal some more.

Then my stomach growls, loud and merciless.

Then Momma's voice calls my name from downstairs.

Is there a 'None Apply' option to this test?

Footsteps down the hall, a knock on my door.

_'F'. 'F'_. **F a i l.**

"Kida, hon, you awake?" Momma calls.

I sigh, and get it over with.

"No."

I was never one for being abrasive. I'm the type of person who thinks that something you don't want to do, can be avoided until it doesn't exist anymore. Unfortunately, Poppa personally, does not agree.

The door opens, and I brace myself for a very sad Momma. I prepare myself for an 'intervention' of some kind where she sits down with me and she says that she losing the baby wasn't my fault, and I explain to her why it is, and then this actually leads me to tell her everything about me that I hide.

This scenario, doesn't happen. Either my mother doesn't know that I know about the lost baby, so she doesn't bring it up, ( which I pray is the case), or my feelings of avoidance about this topic are so strong, that they are rubbing off on her.

This, however, is what she says.

Momma: Do you want to go clothes shopping with me? Just us girls?

I blink, my mouth hanging open. Me: Um...I'm sorry?

If '_anticlimactic_' had a specific Moment of Honor, this moment would be the award-winning one that would go down in history.

Momma: You know, get some cool shirts, maybe some bracelets? We can go to your favorite restaurant.

I have a favorite restaurant?

(Do I still have to eat if we go to-wherever-this-said-favorite-restaurant- is? Can I just watch Momma eat? Because Kailani and her Minions make it their mission to point out how fat I am everyday, and, um, I kinda 'forgot' to eat breakfast yesterday, and the day before that. Lunch, too. And last Wednesday, Momma and Poppa were out late, and there was really no point to make dinner for one...)

I swear, if I ever grow up and write a book based on my life, it will end up in that ancient underground library, too horrid for the normal eyes.

Momma: Are you okay? You're acting weird.

(Translation: Why do you never eat or talk to people? Why do I hear you taking to yourself late at night? Why do you stare off into space and act so odd? Are you sure you are my daughter? Are you on drugs? Why-?)

Momma: _Kida?_

Me, blinking: No, No, I'm fine! I'm just surprised you had off is all...

Because honestly speaking, when has my mother, the Avatar, had a day off? Or, more importantly, have wanted to spend it with me, shopping? Something of which we both hate?

Momma: Just thought we could spend some time together. Momma and her baby.

I swallow. Well, now I _have_ to go. And especially with her using that pouty-mommy-face, batting her eyes and looking so, so...

Gahh, she got me.

I lie. Me: Sure, Momma. I'd loved to.

It's not that I don't want to spend time with her- because I really, really do! That's not the pro-lem.

The prob-lem, is that I realllllllyyyy do not like doing all that girly stuff, ( that's more of Auntie Asami's thing). Kailani and her minions are probably going to be at the same store, and, 'Ol Bruiser clashes with lots of colors, and I really need to lose, like, five pounds before anything in my age range would look good on me (there is this one shirt that I have had my eye on...) and, um, I'm kinda scared that I will see Sunna walking around, and If I do, I think I'd explode.

Any questions?

Momma smiles, happy. Cue, Kida's smile. Cue happy, normal daughter-_places people!_

_Momma and Her Baby:_ '_Intervention' Scene take one:_

Momma: _( concerned)_ What happened to 'Ol Bruiser?

'Kida acts innocent and ignorant to total breakdown in bedroom the evening prior'

Kida shrugs her shoulders: (_nonchalant_) Oh, nothing. You know I don't like to sleep with him.

Momma: (_pressing_) But he's all beat up.

Kida: (_mentally panicking, but face of steel) _I said it's nothing, Momma! Really! I was just stupid, and threw him, and he got banged up. I'll be more careful. Promise.

Momma: _(Not convinced) _Kida, what's wrong? You're teachers say you've been behaving very quiet and distant in class lately. ( _now quiet and serious_) I got a call this morning from school. They said there was incident yesterday in the classroom involving your bending and-

Kida: (_Explosion of mind, body, and soul) -_Momma! Geez, nothing happened! Look, I gotta get dressed and stuff so we can go! I wanna go to that one store, with the...the...the cool pants!

Momma _(bewildered) _What? The pants? Kida, what's wr-

Slam!

'Momma is now locked out of bedroom, and Kida goes to change. She looks in the mirror, with a frown, and prays to the Spirits that this doesn't go horribly wrong.'

And- _cut!_

I lean on my door, and slide down it, with a huge sigh.

"What just happened?" I ask Tukka, my head in my lap. He crawls out from under my bed, looking as exasperated as I feel.

Tukka caws softly, and nudges 'Ol Bruiser to me.

"Thanks, boy," I scratch him under his chin. He purrs, and licks my fingers.

I (painfully) lock 'Ol Bruiser into place, connecting him to my shoulder. My nerves blaze up like hot iron. I can't figure out why he's been making me sore lately. Maybe stress, maybe the weather? Maybe I've grown? I sigh, and mutter apologies to him, as I trace all his shiny bolts with my fingers.

Looking around my room, I think.

Maybe this won't be as bad as I'm making it out to be. A whole day with my mother; that's all I've ever wanted, and I'm getting it. I should be happy.

Though I admit, I'd be much happier sparring with her, doing bending. I have been _begging _them to teach me the Dragon's Breath for months now, but they refuse, saying it's too dangerous.

But I think, maybe, just this once, I can pretend to be a normal girl. I can be a happy, normal girl for a day, get some clothes, and dissuade Momma's worry.

For a moment, I get a quick flash of Momma last night, saying she was a horrible mother, and conclude those doubts are part of her plan for wanting to take me out. I make a mental note to give her an extra big hug later and tell her how much I love her.

I stand up, and heave a weary breath.

I can do this, I tell myself. I will do this for Momma.

I will be a star for Momma.

(Spirits, I pray, please don't let me mess this up.)


End file.
